Echos of a Past Violence
by opens up 4 nobody
Summary: After deserting his profiling job with the FBI and cutting all ties to his past life in the aftermath of an unsolved case with extraterrestrial implications, Will Graham happens to bump into a smooth-talking surgeon as he psyches himself up to begin therapy.
1. Chapter 1

A low rumble of thunder rolled through the heavy gray sky. The air felt like rain, it had that tension and electric smell that came before a heavy downpour. A sort of erie stillness was carried even on the slow breeze. It felt rather cool for late May, but the atmosphere held an ominous overtone that made it difficult to appreciate.

Alana Bloom was making her way up a rather long gravel driveway in the middle of nowhere Michigan. She had driven past miles of farmland before finding herself at the end of this closed off drive. It was completely isolated, the house couldn't even be seen from the road, it was concealed by a small patch of trees.

The closest town was about thirty minutes away. It was a small town on the coast of Lake Michigan, about an hour north of Grand Rapids, where Alana had been at a conference.

She wasn't from the area. She wasn't even from the state. She lived in Virginia with her wife and son. She worked with the behavioral science unit of the FBI as a consultant, as she was a practicing psychiatrist. But now she was here to make a visit and she had gone to a lot of trouble, so the closed off driveway and beware of dogs sign were not about to make her turn back after coming so far out of the way. She had ducked under the barrier without hesitation.

In all honesty, she was lucky to have found the place at all. She may have overstepped a few laws concerning privacy in order to find the address, but she assured herself that it was for a good cause.

Alana couldn't exactly say that that she had ever really been friends with the owner of this house. Sure, they had worked together from time to time, and she had always liked him, but Will Graham was never one to go around actively making friends. He did his job and then he went home. People were too much for him. Still, Alana liked to think that they had been closer than he was to most people.

Will had been the pride of the BAU, at least as far as his track record for profiling went. He had been a teacher for the academy and a consultant, working at the job for five years before he had an apparent mental break and all but dropped out of existence. He had cut away all ties to Virginia, not that he had many to begin with.

That had been nearly two years ago. Alana had not been a part of the case Will was on at the time, but she had heard enough about it after everything happened. The unit had been after a serial killer close to home in Virginia. The unknown subject had been abducting people indiscriminately and returning them by laying them out in fields pealed open like dissected frogs in the center of what amounted to small crop circles. It was a strange case and there hadn't been much physical evidence to go on.

Will hadn't appeared to have been anymore or less bothered by this case than any other before it. He was always affected in one way or another, but this hadn't started off as one of the bad ones. They had been closing in on a profile when Will had gone missing. He had vanished from his home in the middle of the night, no obvious signs of struggle. Fearing that the killer had abducted his star profiler, the head of the BAU, Jack Crawford, had thrown together a detailed search effort. They turned up nothing.

Will apparently popped back into existence in an emergency room in Richmond at three AM four days later. He was not in critical condition, or in any real need of assistance. He had stumbled in off the streets and collapsed in the waiting room. He had some injuries, but what they were was subject to speculation and rumor so Alana never knew for certain.

Someone at the hospital managed to recognize Will from the news and contacted Jack about his missing profiler. Meeting up with Will after his absence had not gone as planned. Jack had never said a word on what had actually gone down in that room,

but afterward it was made clear that Will was done. Full stop. Point blank. Done.

He refused to work any farther on the case, refused to cooperate with any questions people had for him, he quit his job as a profiler and as a teacher, he packed up and left the state. No one had heard a word from him since then. Alana had only been able to locate him by pulling in a few favors. Hopefully she wouldn't have the door slammed in her face for all her effort.

She was just worried, she couldn't help it. Will had always been on the unstable side, she was unsure of what two years isolation would do to him and there was really only one way to find out.

She was coming up on the house now. It was a pretty enough place. A little farm house, wood, two story, blue-gray with a dark gray metal roof alongside a decent sized barn. It was surrounded by trees. There were a few nice looking cherry trees, but they did not appear well maintained. There was a moderate sized yard as well, it was the only area where the grass was well kept and it was interspersed here and there with bits of fabric and plastic and other things that the dogs must have gotten into and dragged around. She could see that one of canines had been digging at the foundation of the house. She wondered how many dogs he had. Last time she had seen Will, he had had five dogs living with him in Wolf Trap and he had taken them all with him.

There didn't seem to be any lights on inside but there was a car in the driveway. As she drew closer, Alana could hear the dogs inside barking at her.

When she was ten feet from the porch, the door opened letting a herd of dogs rush out. She counted seven. There were two larger dogs, three little dogs, and two medium sized dogs. They bounded toward her, sniffing as she approached. They seemed like nice dogs, not the sort you'd need signs up for.

Will stood in the doorway, still clutching the doorknob. She couldn't read his expression, he seemed surprised to see her but she couldn't tell if that was a good or bad thing. He was wearing old jeans and a plaid shirt over a white t-shirt, though he looked a bit ruffled in general. His clothes were wrinkled and his hair was a mess.

"Hi," Alana said as she stepped onto the porch.

"Hi," Will responded. His voice came out rough with disuse so he awkwardly cleared his throat and tried again. "Hi."

"You are a hard man to find," Alana smiled as she kneeled down to pet the dogs.

"You weren't supposed to find me," Will said, his face shifting to something more neutral, "That was the point."

"I was worried, Will. No one's heard from you in two years. I wasn't even sure you were even alive."

"Well, here I am."

"Here you are," she nodded, "Will you let me inside?"

Will looked over his shoulder, into his house. He shook his head. "There's a stream out back, we can walk and talk."

Alana smiled slightly and followed Will as he stepped off the porch, going around the house. "So, what have you been doing all this time?" she asked.

Will shrugged, his posture was terrible. His body language read "stay away from me" he looked folded in on himself. He kept fidgeting with his hands, something she had not known him to do. When those hands were still, she could tell they were shaking. His eyes roamed around nervously, never meeting hers, but that was nothing new.

"I work at a boat repair shop in town," he managed, "Not quite as glamorous as catching serial killers, but it pays."

"I'm sure it's better for your mental health," Alana smiled.

"Sure, but I make all my coworkers nervous. They think I'm pretty weird. Can't blame them, I am pretty weird."

"You're just different."

"Isn't that what being weird is?"

"I suppose, in more delicate terms."

Thunder rolled off in the distance and Alana saw Will give a visible jolt. "Sounds like it's going to rain."

"I guess we should go in after all." Will was quiet for a moment, staring at the ground. "I mean, if you really want."

"I do." She was worried at what she might see.

They turned back and went inside. The place was relatively clean. Plates and dishes put away, but the counters were cluttered with papers and books. Alana glanced at one paper as she walked by. It was covered in Will's scrawled writing, it looked frantic. The books seemed to mostly text books of some kind. She hoped he'd taken up a hobby, not started a spiraling obsession. They seemed to be mostly physics and astronomy based.

"Have you taken up an interest in space?" Alana asked.

Will shrugged and took a seat on his couch. His guest sat in an arm chair. She looked around, noticing the windows. She hadn't noticed any lights on when they were outside, but that seemed to be because they were all covered over in black fabric despite having unused curtains hanging at the sides. Strangely enough, the papers seemed to have tiny holes poked in them which let a small amount of light in through little streams. She imagined on a very sunny day they might look a bit like stars.

Will was fidgeting again. He was making Alana nervous, an instinct she trusted and worried greatly over. "So, why did you come all the way out here?" Will managed.

Alana hesitated, "I was worried about you. I had a conference in Grand Rapids and I thought I'd stop by to see how you are."

"I'm fine." There was a rumble of thunder in the distance, Will flinched away from it, his eyes flickering upward toward the sound.

"Will," Alana spoke calmly, "I don't know what you've been doing out here, but I really think you should someone to talk to."

"I'm fine, I've gotten through life this far without talking to anyone." A second roll of thunder and Will's breath hitched slightly, making his words stumble. He took a deep breath, pressing a hand to his mouth and turning his face away.

"Is the storm making you nervous?"

"It's not the storm." His voice was strained. "I just– you need to leave."

The rain came as a sudden downpour. The house creaked as the wind picked up. Thunder made the earth rumble. There was a pulse of light from the tiny holes in the covered windows that could be assumed was the flashing of lightning.

Will appeared to be on the verge of a panic attack. He was holding his chest with one arm and pressing one hand to his eyes in an effort to calm down.

Alana spoke softly to him, "Will, is there anything I can do?"

At her words he jumped. "Just go." He breathed as he hastily stood from the couch, stumbling, rushing down a hall and up a set of stairs.

After a moment, Alana followed him. As she walked farther from that first room, she grew more and more worried. The farther she went, the more disorganized things got. There were crumpled papers on the floor, books that appeared to have been thrown across the hall, and there was writing on the walls. Upon closer inspection, it appeared all to be nonsense. Or at least mostly nonsense interspersed with a word phrase every so often. She rubbed at the words and they came off with a bit of effort. It appeared to be dry erase marker. Not that this was of much comfort.

Alana glanced around at the top of the stairs. She had heard a door slam and there was only one door closed, the door at the end of the hall. She passed a series of rooms. There was a bathroom, a guest room, an office completely full of old papers and books, and what appeared to be Will's room. The door at the end of the hall was the only one free of any writing. She knocked once. "Will?" she asked.

"Go away."

"I'm just worried about you."

"I know, go away."

She sighed, "I'm staying here until it stops raining. I'll be down in your living room."

She walked down, picking up a few pieces of paper and looking through them. They also appeared to be gibberish. She wondered if it were some sort of coded language or if Will was simply losing his mind.

The storm raged strong for about half an hour before letting up. Alana was getting ready to go back up and try coaxing Will out again when he came down the stairs himself.

"Sorry," he said horsely as he took a shuttering breath. "I just– sorry."

Alana stepped closer, placing a hand on his shoulder. He flinched but did not move away. "Listen, Will. I don't know what's going on up here," she gestured to his head, "Unless you tell me. I'm a physiatrist, not a mind reader. Talk to me."

Will's mouth remained firmly shut in a grimace.

"Please, Will, I don't like to see you like this."

He remained silent.

Alana let out a heavy sigh, "Alright, fine, I have to get going. I go back to Virginia later tonight. It was good to see you."

"Good to reassure yourself I'm still here," Will corrected.

"That too," she nodded, "But I really do think you should talk to someone."

"I don't have friends."

"I'm your friend." Sort of.

Will made a face.

"Fine. If you aren't going to talk with me, I'm going to give you a name. I know a doctor Bedelia Du Maurier in Grand Rapids."

Will made another face.

"She is very good and I think you should at least try to see her. Just schedule one appointment. That's all you have to do."

Will grimaced. "Alright."

She sighed. "Good. Will you give me your phone number so I can text her name to you?"

Will hesitated before going over to the counter and picking up his phone. Unlocking the thing, he handed it to Alana who quickly added herself as a contact and texted him the name of Doctor Du Maurier.

"It was good to see you, Will," she said when she was finished.

"It was good to see you too." She couldn't tell if he meant it or not.

Alana walked out he door and back down the driveway, leaving Will to himself. Somehow she was more worried now than when she had arrived.

XxxX

Will couldn't breathe until he was sure that Alana was gone and even then it was a shaky breath. His dogs whined at him as he stood in the middle of his living room, staring at the crumpled pieces of paper Alana had left on his coffee table.

She thought he was insane. Maybe that was justified. Of course it was justified, he was completely insane. He knew this, but having Alana there really cemented in that point. She was someone from a past life. Someone who knew the person that he had been before this.

The rain was picking up again. The sounds danced over his nerves. At a rumble of thunder he felt his chest tighten. It was embarrassing and Alana had been there to see him like this. Well, it could have been worse. But as Will made the walk up the stairs he felt a wave of shame as he looked around at the papers and the books and most of all the writing on the walls.

He needed to take care of that. He just got into these manic states at times and it just happened. At least he had taken to switching to dry erase marker, not that it was much easier to remove, especially after being stuck on the wall for months.

Will reached the end of the hall and opened the door. He was glad Alana hadn't seen the inside. It had been a small storage room full of shelves but Will had removed them all. He had a pile of canned foods and bottles of water sitting in the corner along with a can opener and a heavy duty flashlight. There wasn't enough room for a bed, so he had an air mattress and sleeping bag on the floor. There were a few books but when he was in the room he was never in a fit state for reading. Mostly, he would sit there rocking back and forth, trying to comfort himself and failing miserably.

The walls of the room were lined with tin foil. It was stupid. It felt even more stupid now. Too many movies, too much external influence. What was tin foil honestly going to protect him against? Nothing. It was all in his head anyway, so it didn't even matter. And yet when the next thunder clap sounded, Will felt his breath hitch and he folded in on himself under his sleeping bag. It wasn't the actual storm that caused the reaction, it was the loud sound of the thunder. It just triggered panic mode in his mind.

Maybe he did need help. The thought had occurred before. He had probably needed help when he was consulting for the FBI, what with all the murderers in his head, but somehow that felt more manageable than the utter mess he'd become. Now, Will was lucky he could manage to hold down his job. Some days he would have a panic attack as he walked out to his car. He still forced himself to go. Leaving the house was difficult. Dealing with people was even more difficult, sometimes impossible. But when he was away from people he was afraid of what could happen to him.

Will fell asleep that night only to wake at around three in the morning, as he did more often than he cared to admit.

Will's heart was racing. He could feel it vibrating through his chest. His breath was coming too fast. The world was a haze through his tunneled vision. He felt too hot. He wanted to peel his skin back to seek release.

His feet felt strange. The ground was soft and wet. Tall grass brushed at his legs. He was in the fields around his house. The dark sky hovered over him, clouds blocking out any light. He was exposed, too exposed. He couldn't breath. Blood rushed hot then cold through his head. He clutched at himself, making a pathetic whining sound in the back of his throat. He wanted to throw up.

There was nothing to cover him, nowhere to hide. He fell to the ground, pressing himself to the wet earth as if to burrow into it. His eyes were screwed shut so tightly he saw colors. Tears still managed to leak out. Half from frustration and half from irrational terror.

He couldn't move until the sun had risen past the horizon. This had happened before, but it wasn't so often an occurrence. The stress of seeing Alana must have done something to his head.

Will took a deep breath. Maybe he should see that doctor. Just once. He wasn't sure how much more he could take if he didn't try something.

XxxX

A/N: Hello, this is just a little thing I had to get out of my system. Sorry, I just had to.

The title comes from something my astronomy professor said about galaxy collisions and I thought it was pretty.

Thanks.


	2. Chapter 2

Will made the call and scheduled an appointment with the doctor. He had a week to prepare himself, he dreaded it with every breath he took. At least he dreaded it all all of his waking hours. When he was asleep he had horrible nightmares and when he was half awake he was eager to see the doctor and put this mess behind him. His nightmares were always different, with his empathy disorder and previous job of hunting serial killers, he had a lot of grotesque material to work with. Never a dull moment, always a gripping terror.

When the day of the appointment arrived, it took Will a good deal of effort to force himself out of the house. He laid in his sleeping bag—having not been able to sleep in his bed—for about an hour before he had to go, frozen in place.

He made the drive down to Grand Rapids and spent an hour sitting in the parking lot trying not to have a meltdown. He was still an hour early for his appointment, so he walked down the road to a kids park and sat down on a bench. There weren't any kids out playing on the thing. It felt too hot to do anything productive.

Will rubbed his hands up and down his arms anxiously. Maybe this was a stupid idea.

He heard someone walking past the bench behind him. Will sucked in a breath and willed whoever it was to move on. But he heard the steps falter, pausing just as they passed Will and then talking a few steps to come up beside the bench.

"Are you alright?" Came a calm male voice.

Despite knowing a person was there, Will visibly flinched. "I'm fine," he managed, hoping this man would move on.

He did not, unfortunately. Instead, he came to sit down on the bench next to Will. "You don't look fine." His speech was heavily accented but Will could not place it. He kept his eyes glued to the ground, his arms still moving up and down his arms. He didn't say anything.

"If there's something bothering you, I know it always helps me to let it off my chest. Even if it is just while speaking to a stranger."

"In about forty minutes I'll be talking to a physiatrist, I don't think I'd like to unload my feeling onto two strangers today," Will grumbled.

"I hope that means you are willing to speak to your psychiatrist."

"Probably not. We'll see how it goes."

"Why go to a psychiatrist when you don't plan to speak?"

"Because I'm not sure what else to do."

"Then why not speak?"

"She's going to think I'm insane."

"Isn't it her job to guide you from insanity?"

"That doesn't make me feel any better."

"How unfortunate. Well, you are still welcome to speak with me—the stranger—in the next fifteen minutes before I'm late to work."

"Do you often try to comfort the poor unstable citizens of the city before work?"

"Only when they need the comfort."

"You're dressed very nicely for someone who talks to crazies off the street. I feel I should be stabbing you and stealing your wallet, which judging by the state of that suit, is overflowing with cash."

"Please refrain from that, it would be most rude. I dress nicely because I enjoy doing so."

Will rolled his eyes gave the man a sideways glance. He was older than Will, nearly the same height, ash brown hair and pronounced cheek bones. He was smiling.

"I'd like to have my meltdown in peace, if you don't mind."

"Are you sure? You can never tell how wonderful human contact can be."

"I tend to find it more unpleasant than anything. I'm not very good with people anyway."

"I think you are doing well enough. You could certainly be doing worse. You've stopped rubbing your arms at least."

Will glanced down. He had in fact stopped rubbing his arms, though he'd moved onto clutching at the legs of his jeans with a death grip.

"Perhaps walking around would help clear your head," the man suggested.

Walking was worse than sitting. If he was walking then he had to walk with his eyes glued to the ground. Sitting on the bench it was much easier to avoid people, excluding this one strange man. "No, don't you have a job to get to?"

"As I said, I do have some time before hand. What is it that you do?"

"I'm not answering the personal questions of some strange man in a suit who wandered up to me out of nowhere."

"I see you have some trust issues. May want to speak with you physiatrist about that."

"If I can trust her enough to do even that."

"If."

"You could do a little practice in trust before hand by telling me what it is you do."

"I repair boats, it's not especially glamorous."

"Do you enjoy it?"

Will shrugged, "Not the part where I have to be around people, but they tend to keep me away from anyone so it's usually alright."

"Well, that is good. Though perhaps if you were exposed to more people, then you wouldn't be in this situation at the moment."

"Maybe, maybe not. I find people to be very stressful."

"I can appreciate that on some level. Though I usually find people to be rather dull."

"Is that why you talking to crazy people like me? Spark a bit of interest in your life?"

"Perhaps. I can't say I regret it, you do seem like an interesting person..." He paused, leaving Will to say his name.

"I barely let you know what I do for a living, I'm not going to tell you my name. And it's not like it would even matter, because in all likelihood I will never see you again."

The man sighed, "Well, I hope that is not the case because you've peaked my interest, but either way my name is Hannibal Lecter."

Will glared at him. "Well, I'm sorry, mister Lecter, but I don't find you that interesting." He didn't sound sorry.

"Doctor Lecter," Hannibal corrected, "And I am also sorry about that. I've been told I'm a rather interesting person."

"Oh fantastic, you're a doctor. What sort of doctor? And if you are a physiatrist I may punch you, just a warning."

"I happen to be a surgeon, so there is no need for that. Though I am qualified for such a position as a phychiatrist if I were ever inclined to leave my current job."

"That's at least worth a good shove, but I don't want to touch you, so you're safe for now."

"Thank goodness for that."

"Still, you're throwing off my pre-socializing rituals."

"I can't imagine any of those are healthy."

"They are not, but it's what I do. So, I'm going back to my car."

"If it truly bothers you so much, then I can move on my way."

"It does."

"Then I will be going. It was very nice to meet you, I hope that your therapy goes well." He stood and walked away. Will didn't say anything in return. He went back to rubbing at his arms.

XxxX

Will did manage to make his way inside when it was time for his appointment.

Doctor Du Maurier smiled politely as she let Will into her office.

"I assume you already know who I am," Will said awkwardly as he was guided to the chair in the middle of the room. Everything felt uncomfortable. Somehow it all rang faulse to him.

"Yes, Alana Bloom mentioned you to me. She seemed worried." The doctor swept back a stray strand of blond hair.

"Did you know me before she mentioned that?"

"Yes, you are rather well known in academic circles."

This was one of the many reasons he hated psychiatrists. They all acted like they knew everything about him, having never met him.

"Then I'm sure I won't have to explain my situation to you."

"Some explaining would still be nice, Will. You deserted the FBI after being abducted by a serial killer. If I am correct, you never told anyone what happened?"

"And I don't plan on it," Will snapped, then realized that the point of being there was to talk to this woman about his problems. "At least not right now."

"That's alright. Is there anything you would like to talk about?"

"I have some anxiety problems."

"What sort of problems?"

Will opened his mouth and closes it again, saying nothing.

This was a continued theme in the hour long session. The doctor would ask will a question that he would attempt to answer, but the words would get a stuck. In the end he didn't give Doctor Du Maurier any solid answers. I was actually very frustrating, it wasn't like he wasn't trying—he really was. His stupid brain was just getting in the way.

When he was done with the session, he drove home and laid on the floor with his dogs, seeking comfort from the anxiety. He had still been shaking halfway through his drive home.

XxxX

Will went back to doctor Du Maurier a week later. He wasn't quite sure why, he didn't seem to be getting anything out of it and he wasn't really telling her anything while he was there. He just felt like he had to try something or he might lose his mind. He would just have to try harder to get his words out. He scheduled weekly appointments.

On his second visit to the physiatrist, he once again ran into the strange doctor in the park. Doctor Lecter. Will remembered it because the name made him think of shoe polish and eels for some reason. A strangely smooth sounding name, if a bit sinister.

"Ah, you are back," the doctor said, stopping beside the bench.

Will glared at him. "So are you."

"I take it therapy went well then?"

"Not well, but it didn't go terribly."

"Well, that's a start."

"It's something," Will's frown deepened.

"Well, therapy is not often an instant fix. You will have to work at it."

"Well, I did try and I couldn't get the words off my tongue."

"And why do you think that is?"

"Either because I'm just a generally difficult person or because I don't think I particularly like Doctor Du Maurier."

"If you don't like your psychiatrist, you could always request to be directed to another."

Will shook his head, "In all likelihood it would just be the same there as well. I just generally don't like psychiatrists, doctor Du Maurier's personality doesn't help though."

"Has something been done to offend you?"

"No, she just has a general aura of superiority. She hides it behind her facade with patients, but she's not an especially good actress it seems." That wasn't exactly true. While her tells were obvious to Will, they probably wouldn't be noticed by just anyone.

"I thought doctor Du Maurier was quite the successful physiatrist, it would surprise me if she could not hide her own feelings."

"She probably can to other people, but not to me," Will scowled, "It doesn't matter though, I'm not going to go find someone else."

"Whatever you think is best for yourself."

Will blinked and cast Hannibal a suspicious glance.

"What?" Hannibal wondered.

"Nothing."

"It doesn't seem like nothing."

"You're just weirdly interested I me and it's just kind of suspicious."

"You seem to be a particular individual, I am interested in seeing how you turn out."

Will haunched his shoulders, "Great, that makes me feel quite like a bug under a magnifying glass."

Hannibal moved around the side of the bench and sat down beside him. "I do apologize. I did not intend it in that way."

"Yes, you did," he glanced up, their eyes making contact for a brief moment. "You're curious so you'd like to watch and see if is get better or destroy myself. I'm not sure which would be more entertaining for you, sorry. I guess you'll probably find out for yourself if I keep running into you like this."

"I will not deny that I have a tendency to become transfixed with odd things, but I do hope that you will gain something from your therapy."

"But you only want that so I'll talk to you more. You should be pleased as is, I don't talk to anyone this much, aside from my dogs."

"A product of therapy?"

"I doubt it, after one session where I said very little and took little to no advice."

"My charming personality then?"

"That and you're catching me in a vulnerable moment as I prepare for the unpleasantness that is dealing with other people."

"Well, I enjoy talking with you and I hope that you do not hate our interactions as much as you seem to hate others."

"No, you have a manufactured smoothness that others do not. Which is quite suspicious but none the less it aids to sooth a bit."

"Well, I am very glad to hear that. Does this mean you'll tell me your name?"

"No."

Hannibal gave a sigh that was only half dramatized. "Well, my mysterious friend, I shall await the day you reveal your true name to me with baited breath."

"Defiantly nothing creepy about that," Will rolled his eyes.

Hannibal gave soft breath of laughter, "As long as you hold back information, I've decided to be more on the open side, creepy speech included. It would not do for both of us to be emotionally closed off."

"You do speak a bit like Vulcan though," Will mused, "Actually, maybe more like a Romulan, your words don't lack emotion the way a Vulcan's would. You'd probably a Cardassian though, you seem sinister enough."

"Are you speaking of Star Trek?"

"Yeah, I– Well, I used to... Never mind." Will turned away, more closed off. "You should probably go now, I still have to prepare myself for my session."

Hannibal stared at him for a moment before he reached over and settled a hand on Will's shoulder. Will tensed under the contact, staring down at his knees.

Hannibal's hand only stayed there for a brief moment before he stood to leave. "Well, mysterious stranger, I wish you only the best. Until we see each other again."

"If we see each other again." He didn't look up but he could tell Hannibal was smiling

"If," the doctor echoed as he began to walk off.

XxxX

The second appointment hadn't gone much better than the first one had. Well, there was some success in that he talked about at least something. It hadn't been anything related to why Will was there, but it was a step forward.

Will had spent the first half of the appointment avoiding important questions and he could tell that the doctor was getting slightly annoyed with him, so she decided to change tactics.

"Tell me about your childhood, Will," she said coolly, hands folded together over her knee.

Will shrugged, "It was just me and my dad. We moved around a lot, but that wasn't so bad."

"How did you get along with others your age?"

"I didn't. I mostly avoided people until it was time to move again, which worked for me."

"Did you have any close friends growing up?"

"No, most other kids thought I was weird. Luckily, I was weird in a quiet way. So, anytime someone started bothering me, another person would usually jump in and tell them off for bugging me."

"So, you didn't have any friends, but you didn't have any enemies either."

"Yes. I just worked through school on my own."

"Did you do any sports or clubs?"

"No, but after school I would try to go fishing if we lived anywhere near a pond or a river or something."

"Always alone?"

"Sometimes my dad came with me."

"And how was your relationship with your father?"

Will shrugged, "Alright, nothing special."

"And your mother?"

"Left when I was little. I never knew her."

"Any resentment there?"

"Nope." Will was starting to feel uncomfortable again. The rest of her questions he answered as simply as he could, without giving much away.

Still, it was better than nothing.

XxxX

Will had a busy week at work. He felt more stressed than usual, a fact which was vividly reflected in his nightmares.

XxxX

"You have dogs?" Hannibal asked as he sat down at the bench.

Will jumped a bit, having been caught somewhat off guard. "I– Yes, I do."

"How many?"

"Seven."

"And where did you pick up seven dogs?"

"They were strays. Sometimes I pick them up and find homes for them and sometimes I keep them," Will shrugged.

"Are they indoor or outdoor pets?"

"They come inside with me."

"They're your pack," Hannibal smiled.

"I suppose."

"Do you ever get lonely when you seal yourself away with all your dogs?"

"I'm not sure lonely is quite the right word. Sometimes I wish I could tell people things, but when it actually comes down to it, I can't force the interaction. I'm just disconnected from other humans, we don't operate on the same frequency."

"I think we all feel way that sometimes."

"I imagine you feel that way a lot."

"Why do you say that?"

"Your face is too well practiced and polite. I imagine you are used to telling people what they want to hear or some variation thereof."

"I remind you that I am a surgeon, there are times where I have to be a bearer of bad news."

"And I'm sure you are charming and delicate about it."

"As charming and delicate as I can be. Sometimes it is difficult not to be upset by a failed procedure."

"Because you were responsible for a loss of life, or because you were not able to succeed in what you were doing?"

"Probably a little of both. At times I do worry for the blood on my hands."

"You're a surgeon, you're allowed to let a number of people die within reason. The blood is on the operating table, not your hands."

"But it is difficult not to feel like it is my own fault, even when I logically know it is not."

"It is hard to wash that feeling away." Will thoughts strayed to all the killers who had stained his mind at one time or another.

"You sound as if you speak from experience. Do you see much death in working on boats?"

Will shifted uncomfortably, "No, I just imagine that it would be hard."

"Your imagination would be correct, it is at times difficult not to feel responsible."

Will cast him a side glance, there had been something deeper in that statement. "You're speaking in layers."

"True. It is not only the death of my patients I feel responsible for. My sister died when I was young and I was not able to protect her."

"A very intimate thing to reveal to a man whose name you don't know," Will pointed out, "Why would you feel responsible for something like that?"

Hannibal shook his head, "She was sick and the situation was out of my control, in reality there wasn't much I could have done but it was still very traumatic for me."

"I can't imagine." He could, if he tried. He could imagine all too well if he chose to meet Hannibal's gaze, but he did not.

"You don't want to."

"No, I don't."

"Do you have any siblings?"

"No, I'm an only child."

"Siblings can be a blessing and a curse. In my case, she was mostly a blessing and by the power of others became a curse."

"The world is cruel."

"The world is cruel," Hannibal agreed, "But I choose to enjoy it anyway." He smiled, rising from the bench. "I hope you will do the same." He patted Will's shoulder, "Until next week."

"Bye." Will managed when Hannibal was sufficiently out of hearing range.

XxxX

Will did manage to mention his panic attacks in talking with doctor Du Maurier that day. Though after that he closed himself off completely.

XxxX

Will was expecting Hannibal the next time he went to doctor du Maurier. Three times was a pattern and at times Hannibal's presence wasn't wholly unpleasant.

But Hannibal was late. Will felt a sinking feeling in his chest as his usual time of arrival passed. That sinking feeling settled as panic as the time when he would have left passed as well. That wasn't right. Hannibal had become part of the routine. It took more effort than usual to force himself up from the bench and toward the psychiatrist's office.

Will was more closed off than usual in his secession. He tried to leave early and on his way out, the doctor's hand brushed his arm. He managed to make it out of the office and into his car before having a full on panic attack in his car.

XxxX

Is was a terrible week. The longest night he slept was a collected four hours because every time he closed his eyes he would have terrible nightmares. He had a horrible headache and he woke up out in the woods, which was only marginally better than waking up in the middle of a field.

XxxX

Hannibal was on time again next week. Will did not look at him as he sat down.

"I feel I should apologize for not being here last week."

"Why? I don't even know why you're here now. I'm sure you have better things to do. Like going to work."

"All the same, I've set in a routine and I broke it last week without warning you."

Will said nothing, still not looking at him.

"If you would give me your phone number I could warn you in advance should anything else arise."

Will's fists clenched for a long moment before he drew out his phone and unlocked it. He handed it over to Hannibal without looking up.

The phone was gently removed from his hand and Hannibal quickly put in his number and texted himself. Will took back the phone, gripping it tightly.

"I don't suppose you'd be willing to give me your name now that I have your phone number?" Hannibal looked to him hopefully.

Will gave a steady stare. "It's Will," he muttered.

"Will? No last name?"

Will glared. There was on off chance that Hannibal would know of special investigator Will Graham if he knew a thing or two about the psychiatric world. He didn't want his reputation hanging over him. "No last name," he confirmed.

"Very well then."

"Where were you last week anyway?"

"There was a car accident along my way to work. I stopped to offer assistance and rode to the hospital in the back of an ambulance."

"How very valiant."

"It is my job to provide medical assistance."

"Indeed, doctor."

"So, how have you been in my absence?"

"Fine," Will lied.

"Something tells me you are lying, Will."

Will glared at him. "So what if I am?"

"So, honestly, how have you been?"

"Exhausted and anxious."

"Have you been getting anywhere with therapy?"

"No. Well, maybe a little. I'm at least talking now. Not about what I want to talk about but still."

"And what do you want to talk about?"

"Things. Concerns."

"What sort of things?"

Will opened his mouth and closed it again. "The sort I'm not ready to talk about yet apparently."

"All it good time. I am always here to lend an ear."

"Oh, you live on this park bench, do you? Where ever do you store those ridiculous suits then?"

Hannibal smiled, "I am a man of many secrets. But also a man now reachable to you by phone, should you need someone to talk to."

Will looked down to the phone in his hand, "Good to know. Although, this now means that if I end up calling you in the middle of the night blabbing like get a lunatic, then you only have yourself to blame."

Hannibal smiled, "I think I can deal with that.

XxxX

As it turned out, Will did not end up calling Hannibal in the middle of the night. Hannibal did text him on and off during the week, which was very odd but Will didn't find it as upsetting as he thought he might.

They didn't text about anything particularly important, mostly Hannibal just asked how he was holding up.

At their last session, doctor Du Maurier had encouraged Will to be more social. Will had been incredibly doubtful about this idea. He supposed that answering texts counted as socializing on some level.

But his week wasn't any better for it. He had a headache that seemed to be drilling his brain at all hours. He spent the majority of Sunday locked away in his little room because he kept thinking he'd see something move downstairs. Then there was the scary instance on Monday where he couldn't remember how he'd gotten to work. He didn't remember leaving the house at all. It was like he'd opened his eyes and suddenly he was working on an engine. He stumbled off to the bathroom where he locked himself in and had a panic attack. He could also feel that he was running a slight temperature.

He felt almost bad enough to skip his appointment, but he went anyway.

XxxX

Will could feel Hannibal giving him an odd look as he sat down.

"Will, are you alright?" The doctor asked with concern.

Will looked over at him slightly blearily, he was exhausted and his head was pounding. "I'm fine, just a bit sick."

"If you are ill then you should not be out potentially spreading whatever ails you."

Will scoffed. "If I stayed in every time I felt terrible, I would never go anywhere."

"Then perhaps you should see a medical doctor about that."

"No, I don't like hospitals."

"You could tell me your symptoms, just to be sure it isn't something terrible."

Will looked away.

"Is there any particular reason you wouldn't want to tell me your symptoms?"

He said nothing.

"Your response is not doing much to ease my worry, Will."

"I don't want to be crazy," Will said finally.

"You think whatever you have is harming your mental state?"

"I'm worried it's not. And I don't want to be crazy."

"Now I must insist you tell me what your symptoms are."

Will's breath hitched and he fidgeted nervously. "I—"

"Would this be easier in a different environment? Or perhaps over the phone?"

"Over the phone would probably be best." He wouldn't have to deal with other senses, only talking and listening.

"Do you want to call me, or shall I call you?"

Will hesitated. He hated making phone calls.

Hannibal jumped in and saved him from answering. "Alright, how about you try to call me sometime this week. If you haven't called by Sunday night, then I will call you."

"Okay."

XxxX

Will didn't remember his drive home from the psychiatrist's that day. The time was missing. Panic mounting, he attempted to call Hannibal but he couldn't press the call button so he just laid on the floor with his dogs willing Tuesday to come.

The week was growing harder and harder to stomach. He was increasingly irritated. Sometimes he would hear someone talking to him or something moving and then at work when he asked about it, no one has said anything. It was like he could feel himself losing his mind.

He still hadn't managed to make that phone call.

XxxX

Will was standing in the middle of the field near his house, staring up at the sky without any memory of how he got there. His head was pounding. His whole body ached. Something moved at his side. He jerked awake, stumbling toward the light of his house. The dogs were barking at him. He could feel the thing gaining on him as he ran for the porch. He fell running up the steps, sprawling onto the wooden porch. He scrambled for the door. Breathing in his ears. There was a mechanical humming in the air. Whispered voices. The door swung open and Will smashed it shut behind him, gasping for air. He could feel eyes on him. Large black glittering eyes, staring at him from out of the darkness.

He made a dash for the stairs. The hall seemed far too long. When he reached the top, he jumped as his foot made contact with something. His phone. It had been sitting there at the top of the stairs, the screen now cracked.

He grabbed the phone and ran the rest of the way down the hall but stopped before entering his panic room. Something was wrong. Very very wrong. He could feel it and he needed someone to help. He had to call Hannibal and he wasn't sure the phone would work in his tin foil lined room. He glanced down at the phone in his hand and that's when he noticed the blood. His hands were covered in blood and so was the front of his shirt. He could smell the warm copper and an earthiness in the air and gaged on it

Suddenly ever murder case he'd ever been a part of sprung to mind. Had he hurt someone? Could he have killed someone in an absent state? He didn't have any close neighbors, but sometimes people went by on the roads. He couldn't think straight, he didn't want to look at it. Curling himself against the corner of the wall, Will tapped at his cracked phone screen with violently shaking fingers. He squeezed his eyes shut and hit call.

The line rang for a span of time that felt like an eternity. It was late. He was calling a man who didn't even know who he was. Some guy he met in the park.

"Will?" Hannibal's voice came through to Will's spiraling mind. He sounded slightly surprised, he probably hadn't actually expected Will to call. Especially not in the middle of the night like this. There was a sleepy quality in his voice that Will felt like a sucker punch of guilt. What the hell was he doing?

"I—" Will's breath hitched, "Something's wrong," he managed. Gritting his teeth. His toes were curled, the nails of his right hand was digging into his left arm.

"What's wrong, Will?" He sounded so serious.

"I don't know. I just—" there was a creak from somewhere in the house and Will made a strangled sound. "I don't know what's happening." He was crying now. Shaking with hot tears pouring down his too warm face.

"Will, where are you?"

"I'm at home."

"Where do you live?"

Will stuttered his way through his address.

"Do you want me to stay on the phone?" Hannibal asked. Will could hear car keys clattering in the background.

"No, I can't do this for much longer." Sitting outside his panic room was starting to make him feel physically ill. "The front door is unlocked. Go up the stairs and it'll be the door at the end of the hall."

"I'll be there in about an hour, Will. Take deep breaths and try to relax."

Will made a sound in response, but he wasn't sure what it was supposed to mean. It was involuntary.

"I will be there soon." He hung up.

XxxX

A/N: Ugh, this is so lazily written but i don't really care.

All I can see when I look at Bedelia is a more aloof Dana Scully.

Thanks.


	3. Chapter 3

Will spent the next hour curled under a blanket with his eyes clenched shut, slowly rocking back and forth as he tried to control his breathing. He heard the dogs barking and the front door open. Rationally, he knew that should be Hannibal but he couldn't be completely sure. He held his breath as footsteps approached his door.

There was a knock and then the door was pulled back to reveal Hannibal and a pack of dogs at his heels.

"Can I come in?" Hannibal asked calmly.

Will nodded. Shame washed over him at anyone seeing him like this.

Hannibal took a seat beside him in the narrow space. "Can you tell me what happened?"

"I woke up outside covered in blood." He pulled the blanket back and closed his eyes. "I don't know whose it is." He was starting to hyperventilate.

He jumped as Hannibal touched his right arm and then his left. Turning them over carefully. "Will, look at me," Will's eyes opened. He looked at Hannibal, still avoiding direct eye contact. "Whatever you think happened, probably didn't. At least half of this is just mud and some, if not all, this blood is yours. You have some kind of animal bite on your arm. Do you think any of your dogs might have bitten you?"

"No." Will looked down at his arms.

"You're not feeling any pain?"

"Everything hurts, I just didn't notice."

Hannibal calmly handled his left arm as well and Will saw that there were two bites there also. He sagged in relief, letting his head fall against the wall behind him.

"Are you prone to sleep walking?"

"I wasn't. It started after— Ah, after I decided to move here. It just didn't happen as often as it does now."

"Do you think you can get up? I want to wash this up."

The idea of walking out of the panic room made his legs freeze. A silent whine built up in his throat. He shook his head, looking down.

"Do you have anything I can use then?"

"The bathroom is next door on the left, don't worry about staining the towels or anything." They were maroon anyway.

Hannibal nodded. "I'll be right back."

In Hannibal's absence he left the door cracked open. Will stared at the opening as if he was just waited for something to yank the door back and jump at him. He had a towel, a bottle of antiseptic, and some gauze and sports tape.

It stung, but Hannibal worked quickly. "Will, I want you to tell me what's been going on."

"I don't know. I think I'm sick. I've had a fever on and off for like the past week. My body is sore, me head hurts, and sometimes I just zone out."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't remember driving him from my last therapy session. The memory is just gone, it's happened a few times. And there have been a few times where I think I've heard or seen something that should be impossible. Plus, I've been way more paranoid."

Hannibal give him a long look, considering his words. "You wouldn't happen to have some paper and a pencil here would you?"

He did. Sometimes he was able to get things done in his panic room. He reached out a spiral notebook with shaking hands and clicked the pen stuck into its wire.

"I want you to draw me a clock."

"A clock, why?"

"Humor me."

"Fine." Will drew a clock and handed it over to Hannibal.

Hannibal looked at it for a moment. "As soon as you are able to leave this room, I'm driving you to Grand Rapids. There's something physically wrong with your brain. I know a good neurologist, he can get you in for an MRI to see what exactly the problem is. After we get another doctor to look at those bites on your arms."

"I don't think I can leave right now," Will muttered, panic spiking at the word MRI.

"That's okay, take as long as you need," Hannibal soothed, sitting back, "If I may ask, what is this room?"

"A panic room."

"Do you spend a lot of time in here?"

Will moved slightly to show a spot where the paint had literally been rubbed off the wall behind his back. "Yeah."

"Would you be willing to explain?"

Will hesitated, "No. Well, I guess this might explain part of it. My name is Will Graham, not sure if you recognize it or not."

Recognition flashed over Hannibal's face, "Ah, yes. I do know a thing or two about you. Fortunately for you, I only knew you by name and not by face."

"Yeah, did you know how I walked out on the FBI?"

"Yes, but I only know as much as anyone else does. You didn't leave much information behind."

"Well, I got intimately more neurotic after that." Will fidgeted.

Hannibal watched him carefully, "Let's talk about something else. We can discuss that later, I want you to relax."

"What should we talk about then?"

"What do you like to do in your free time?"

"I like to fish."

"Then tell me about that."

Hannibal sat as his side as he began to speak. "Fishing was sort of my dad's thing. We didn't have much in common but we both loved fishing. Fly fishing is my favorite. All of my best memories with my father are of when he would take me camping and then we'd go fly fishing."

"Where did you go to fish?"

"It didn't really matter. We moved around a lot so there were always places to go."

"What was your relationship with your father like? You said you didn't have much in common."

"Careful, doctor, you're starting to sound like my physiatrist."

"I apologize."

"Nah, it's okay. I'm rattled enough that I'd probably have the nerve to say anything. Maybe I should only attend therapy cessions when I'm out of my mind in panic."

"I would advise against that, as a friend who wants you happy and stress free."

"Oh, so you immediately switch from physiatrist to friend. I'd say you are not handling this situation very professionally, doctor." Will teased.

"True, this is not something I would probably do under normal conditions, but I find wanting you to be comfortable in your own existence."

Will sighed, "If only, if only. But to answer your question, I think I probably wasn't what my father expected in a son. I was far too twitchy and strange for his liking, but he did the best he could for me and that's all I could ask."

Hannibal nodded, considering Will's words.

"And what about you doctor? How was your relationship with your father?"

Hannibal raised an eyebrow.

"What? This isn't a therapy session. If I'm going to tell you things, I expect the conversation not to be one way."

Hannibal smiled, "Our relationship was well enough for its short existence. My parents both died when I was very young."

"Ah, sorry."

"It's alright, it has been a very long time. What of your mother?"

"Ditched us when I was like three. I don't remember her."

"A shame, she didn't know what she was giving up."

"A stoic boat mechanic and his twitchy son?"

"She never got the chance to know you."

"And am I worth knowing?"

"I'd like to think so," Hannibal smiled, "but I'm still figuring that out myself."

Will snorted, shaking his head. "You're too much, you know that?"

"I may have been told that a time or two. Do you think you can leave now?"

"Well, I can try."

Hannibal stood, holding out a hand to Will, who took it. Hannibal slowly and gently pulled him from the room out toward the front door.

"Wait," Will said, momentarily gripping the hand tighter.

"What?"

"I've got to put the dogs out in the kennel. And feed them, I don't think I'll be back in time to feed them in the morning."

"I think not," Hannibal agreed. "Where is the kennel?"

Will whistled for his dogs, leading them out into his garage area and out the side door where the kennel was located. He put out food for them as well.

Hannibal waited for him. Will stepped outside and realized that Hannibal must have walked all the way down his driveway. The gate was locked.

"Oh, you can drive my car down to the end of the driveway. Sorry for making you walk." He said guiltily.

"Do not worry about it, Will. It is a clear night." It was, Will felt very small under the expanse of stars.

Will went back inside to retrieve his keys and handed over them over to Hannibal. They made their way down the drive and to Hannibal's car. Will was too out of it to feel embarrassed at the disarrayed state of his car but Hannibal's car was impeccable.

He leaned his head against the windows of the passenger side. Not much was said on the drive, Will was slipping in and out of consciousness. What an odd night he was having. Calling up Hannibal in the middle of the night and dragging him out of home to dive him to the hospital. To the hospital. The hospital.

He'd been lulled enough that he'd almost forgotten where he was going. To the hospital. He was gripped by sudden panic. He tried to maintain his unease so that at least Hannibal wouldn't notice.

His head felt fuzzy, blood was rushing in his ears, he felt hot and cold, drenched in sweat, his heart was beating too fast, everything was blurring, then it all jumped into sudden sharpness. There were hands on him, a voice speaking to him from far away. Will tried to focus.

"Will, I need you to smile for me."

Hannibal. Hannibal was a doctor. He was probably doing doctor things. Will made an effort to smiles and watched as relief crossed the doctors face.

"You've had a mild seizure, are you alright?"

Will slouched back in his seat feeling drained. He nodded slowly as Hannibal ran his cool hand over Will's burning forehead.

Hannibal spent a few more moments insuring that he was alright before heading back to his side of the car and began driving again. The rest of the trip was uneventful. At one point Hannibal attempted to make conversation again but Will's tongue felt too heavy for words. He pretended to sleep the rest of the way because he couldn't actually sleep with anyone else around.

When they pulled into the hospital parking lot, Will had to be persuaded out of the car. Hannibal guided him in by the wrist, signed him in and brought them to a place in the waiting room as from anyone as they could get.

They spent three hours sitting in the emergency room before being seen. Most of that time was spent with Will slouched over onto Hannibal in an attempt to further distance himself from anyone else. He danced in and out of fever dreams.

They were finally called in and Will's bites were treated. Or he assumed they were. He couldn't remember leaving the waiting room. When he blinked he found himself in a different room where Hannibal was explaining his overall symptoms to a man he assumed was the neurologist.

This new doctor tested him on a few things and decided he should get an MRI as soon as possible. The nearest time they could get in was two hours. So, they were escorted to a room to wait.

Will's anxiety mounted before the procedure. "I can't do this," he announced, half an hour before they were scheduled to go in.

Hannibal looked up from the notebook he had been writing in. He had gone down and stopped along the way to Will's room to retrieve some of his things from his work space. "What's wrong, Will?"

"I just can't do it." Will repeated.

"Any particular reason why?"

He opened his mouth and shut it again. "I have my reasons."

"Will, if you don't tell me what the problem is, I can't help you."

He tried again, opening and closing his mouth. He squeezed his eyes shut. "I can't because I'm stupid and crazy and I'm not being rational."

"What don't you think you can do?"

"The MRI."

"And why do you think that you can't do it?"

"Because I—" Will grit his teeth, "I think I have metal implants in my body and I don't want the MRI to rip them out."

Hannibal's face remained blank, "What makes you think that?"

"Because I can feel them sometimes, under my skin." He shifted uncomfortably.

"When do you think these implants were placed, I'm assuming without you permission due to your uncertainty of their existence."

"Sometimes after I moved out here is when I noticed them. Sometimes I feel them vibrate they're getting close."

"And who are they?"

Will gave him a pleading look, "Please, don't make me do this."

Hannibal looked at him for a long time. "Very well, could you tell me where you think these implants are?"

Will nodded. "There's one here," he tapped the back of his neck, "One here that makes my nose bleed," he tapped the side of his nose. "And one here," he pressed a finger to the underside of his ribcage. "Those are the ones I know about."

"I can check them if will soothe your mind."

"Worth a shot, you probably won't find anything." Will sat at the edge of his bed as Hannibal moved behind him, smoothing back the medical gown Will had been placed in. The skin appeared unmarred. Hannibal pressed his fingers to the skin, meeting only the bone of Will's vertebrate. Still, he moved his fingers around for a few moments more.

"Nothing," Hannibal said, moving around to the front.

Will nodded, unsure if he should be distressed or relieved. "You won't be able to feel the one in my face." He said pulling up his shirt and grabbing Hannibal's hand. He pressed his thumb to a spot under his ribs and again Hannibal felt nothing.

He shook his head, "Nothing. I believe you are safe, Will. Even if there were implants there, many small metal devices are safe to have in the MRI. If anything shows up, we will be sure to tell you."

Will sighed. "Fine."

With great trepidation, Will made his way into the MRI.

He didn't really remember the test being done. Not because he blacked out, more because he felt so out body from the fever. He partially remembered being brought back to his room and having the doctor explain what was wrong with him as Hannibal stood at his bedside.

Encephalitis. He had encephalitis, he wasn't crazy. Well, he wasn't as crazy as he could have been. It was a huge relief.

He would have to spend about a week in the hospital, receiving treatment but indications said he would be okay.

Upon hearing this news, Will let out a weary huff of laughter and let himself drift off to sleep.

XxxX

Hannibal visited him in the hospital. He was the only one who did. Part of the reason he visited often was the fact that he worked there. He insisted on bringing Will food that he had made at home. Will would have protested but of course it was heavenly, and so impossible to refuse.

Other than that Will didn't have any friends, so he was pretty much on his own.

He hated being in the hospital, there was nothing good about staying there... Other than being gradually healed. Hopefully, he would go back home and be able to lead an almost normal life. Or at least closer to normal than he had been in the last week.

Hannibal drove him home from the hospital. The medications he was on prevented him from driving. Also, he didn't have his car there.

"Hopefully this will take some of the stress off your life," Hannibal said once they were on the road.

"Well, it's definitely going to make things easier. Unfortunately, I was still a twitchy weirdo before experiencing the effects of my brain inflammation."

"Well, should you need anything, I am always available to you."

"You've already done too much."

"Not at all. I enjoy being around you, Will."

"Even when I'm stuck in a panic attack?"

"Even then."

"Well, I guess that's comforting to know." Will sighed, "Oh, maybe I'll actually be able to talk to my physiatrist now that I've had a brush with death. Or at least with madness."

"Only time will tell. Well, I suppose you probably want me to get out of here so that you can reunite with your dogs."

"Sorry," Will winced and nodded.

"Not at all," Hannibal smiled, "Take this with you." He handed Will a Tupperware container full of soup. "I don't want you neglecting yourself now that you won't have someone around forcing you to eat properly."

Will nodded, accepting the container. He felt an uncomfortable rise in anxiety as he knew that he should probably at some point return the dish. "Thank you. Seriously, you've done way too much for me. If there's even anything I can do for you... You know, just let me know." He rubbed at his arm awkwardly.

Hannibal gave him a kind smile. "I'll keep that in mind, but for now just get better and keep me up to date if you have any issues."

Will nodded, looking away.

"I will see you Wednesday then?"

"Wednesday," Will confirmed.

And with that, Hannibal gave him one last pat on the shoulder before leaving.

Will was happy to be alone in his own house again, it was a relief to see his dogs.

Over the next few days he got used to being back in his home again. He wasn't experiencing anymore hallucinations or fevers,  
but he was still just about as paranoid and uncomfortable as he had been before. That wasn't really a shock though, he'd been that way since leaving the BAU. He also still had his horrible nightmares, but he had yet to wake up outside, though he did not expect this to last. He'd been sleepwalking before the whole brain thing.

Still, it was a relief that he wasn't as nuts as he thought he was.

XxxX

Before his next appointment with doctor Du Maurier, Will sat at his bench with the soup container at his side.

Hannibal approached as he was scheduled to, taking his seat beside Will.

"Here." Will held out the dish, which Hannibal took.

"Thank you. How have you been?"

"Better."

"Going to impress your physiatrist with your brand new attitude?"

"Maybe. I don't know. If I don't get anywhere today, I'm thinking about just moving on with my life."

"It would be a shame after this many weeks to just give up now."

"Well, we'll see. I'm not sure how much I'll be able to handle of her while I'm in a better state of mind. Besides, I talk to you more than I talk to her anyway."

The corner of Hannibal's mouth twitched upward. "I'm honored."

Will scowled. "Most doctors would be. I have a special brain."

Hannibal nodded, "Very special but I believe I'm more interested at the aspect of it that generates your personality, rather than the part that helps you profile."

"Are they all that different? Because I can profile so well, it fucks with my personality."

"True, there are likely some aspects that overlap but without your flaws, you would not be yourself and I quite enjoy being in your presence."

"Then you are one of very few."

"Well, Will, I wish you luck with doctor Du Maurier," Hannibal said standing.

For once, Will felt a bit about his leaving but he did not comment. He watched Hannibal walk away.

XxxX

A/N: I'm a bit unclear on how encephalitis is treated/the time it takes to get rid of it/how long you can have it. So, this isn't entirely accurate. Also, encephalitis is one of those words that is impossible for me to spell for some reason

Thanks


	4. Chapter 4

Will was going to stop seeing doctor Du Maurier. He had decided. He just couldn't handle her superiority anymore. He didn't like talking to her. He didn't like talking to most people, with the apparent exception of one.

He texted Hannibal later that night to let him know of his plan. To inform him that he would no longer run into him on their little park bench. Hannibal texted back asking if he could call the former profiler. Will cringed at the though of talking on the phone, but he could grit his teeth and deal with it.

"I am disappointed. For multiple reasons," Hannibal sighed. Will could hear the soft chopping on a cutting board in the background. He imagined Hannibal cooking himself a dinner far too fancy for one.

Will shrugged, "Sorry, I just can't deal with her anymore and I can't find the motivation to go now that I'm marginally less crazy."

"I just feel that you should not isolate yourself so completely. At least therapy was exposing yourself to other people."

"Are you implying tha I should continued contact with you, doctor?" Will snorted.

"Perhaps." Will could hear the smile on his lips, "I would love to have you over for dinner sometime."

Will hesitated. "I don't know, I just– I'm not good in new places."

"I could come over to your home instead, if that makes you more comfortable."

Will fidgeted. He didn't want to completely drop Hannibal, but he also felt weird about having a proper dinner with him. "I uh, okay. I mean, if you really want to."

"Excellent. I must insist on bringing the food though."

"Yeah, well you'd probably do a better job with the food than me anyway."

"What times works for you?"

"Uh, I don't work Sundays."

"Would Sunday at five be fine?"

"Yeah."

"Good, I will see you then, William."

"Yeah."

XxxX

Hannibal was right one time. He unloaded his car of food. The dogs followed him back and forth, allured by the smell of food. It was just as fancy as will had expected. Hannibal had explained it to him but Will didn't really care what it was. As long as it tasted good, he would eat it.

"Typically, I would serve this dish with wine but I thought I'd better not if I'm going to be driving home late tonight," Hannibal said as he offered the dish to Will.

"You could have stayed here," Will said awkwardly, "I have a spare room."

Hannibal raised an eyebrow. "And would you be able to sleep if I were to stay?"

"Probably not," Will fidgeted.

"Then I shall return home."

They are in relative quiet. There was soft conversation but for once Will didn't feel pressured to talk. It was nice and they finished eating rather quickly.

Will glanced to the side, toward one of the blocked off windows. He had a thought. He got up and wandered toward the front door, motioning for Hannibal to follow him.

It was pitch black out, the moon was little more than a sliver behind clouds. Cloud cover was actually relatively light, allowing the stars to shine out through the void of space. Lightning bugs lit the field.

Hannibal was smiling as he turned to Will, "Beautiful."

Will gave an awkward nod. He was trying to judge how he felt. Usually, if he was outside at night he was gripped by irrational fear. Now he just felt nervous. The night before he had tried to go outside and he couldn't do it. Apparently, it helped to have Hannibal there.

Will reached out his hands and captured a spare lightning bug. He uncoupled his hands to watch it crawl over his palm.

"You should get a jar so that we can capture a few." Hannibal suggested.

Will laughed at that. "Somehow I can't imagine you running around in a field with me, catching fireflies."

"Get a jar and you won't have to imagine."

Will nodded, looking down at the firefly still crawling over his hand. Hannibal held out his own hand and Will brought their fingers together to transfer the bug. Hannibal's hands felt soft and warm.

Will wandered into his home and found a glass jar, returning outside with it. "It doesn't have air holes so we'll have to let them go but here it is." Will held out the jar, uncapped.

Hannibal put his hand inside and shook the Lightning bug into it. Will closed the cap.

"Let's got find it some friends," Hannibal suggested, leaving the safety of the porch. Will's dogs followed him, eager to run around in the field. Will hesitated a moment, looking nervously skyward.

Hannibal turned to see if Will was following. Upon seeing that he wasn't, he returned to the porch and held out a hand with a smile. Will slowly took the hand and allowed himself to be drawn away from his home.

Being out there definitely made him nervous but when combined with the image of Hannibal Lecter running about after fireflies, trailed by a pack of dogs, it was worth staying outside.

They managed to catch forty or fifty of the things. There had been a few close calls where one of them had nearly been attacked by the bats that would swoops by every so often. Hannibal didn't hold it against them, he said he liked to hear them chattering away above them.

Instead of going right back inside, Will invited him to go see the creek behind his house by the light of their firefly lamp. He felt a bit giddy.

The woods were much more creepy at night bit Will was determined not to lose face in front of Hannibal.

"Here is my little creek," Will announced.

Hannibal raised an eyebrow, "I can't imagine you go fishing in here often."

Will laughed, "No, not unless I want to go fishing with a butterfly net."

They walked along the creek a bit before turning back to the house. There were still dishes to be done inside. Hannibal took up washing and Will dried.

"Have you always enjoyed cooking?" Will asked, just to make conversation.

"I believe so. I have not always been very good at it, but I think I have always enjoyed it."

"Did you learn on your own, or did someone teach you?"

"I was taught by the chef employed by my aunt and uncle."

"Your aunt and uncle could afford to employ a chef?"

"Yes, my family was quite well off."

"I can imagine you growing up a little prince in a big castle. I'm glad you didn't grow up to be a spoiled brat."

Hannibal laughed, "Well, I have had to work hard to get where I am now and times have not always so easy for me. I'm glad to hear that I do not come off as a spoiled brat."

"You come off more as a high functioning member of society. I don't know what you're doing in the home of a man who survived off of purely macaroni for most of childhood. Until I could actually drive down to the store and buy groceries for myself."

"You really don't do yourself enough credit, Will," Hannibal sighed, "You are a wonderful person, despite your macaroni filled past."

Will snorted as Hannibal handed him the last dish.

Hannibal grabbed a towel to dry his hands and glanced at his watch, "Oh dear, it's already quarter past ten. I should probably be going."

"I'll say it again: you could stay in my guest room."

"No, I think you've done enough out of your comfort zone for one day."

Will laughed, "Maybe so but I did have a surprisingly good time."

Hannibal laughed, "I'm glad to hear that. We shall have to do it again. Would next week at the same time work for you?"

"Sounds perfect."

"Wonderful. Than I shall said, goodnight, William."

"Goodnight, Hannibal."

Will felt drained the next day from so much social exposure but still content with how events played out.

XxxX

Once again, Hannibal arrived right on time with his bountiful feast. This one was even more showy than the last. Will might have guessed that Hannibal was trying to impress him.

Dinner was just as wonderful as the last and they decided not to wait to do the dishes. As they were finishing up Will started to fidget.

"Something wrong, Will?"

"Um. I just- uh, would like a tour of my house?"

Hannibal raised an eyebrow and nodded, "Lead the way."

"Well, you've sort of seen most of it but I just some might need a bit of explaining."

Hannibal nodded and turned fully toward his friend.

"Okay, you've seen basically all of the ground floor and it's sort of a mess but doesn't require much explanation, so let's go upstairs."

The made their way up the stairs past piles of papers and books. Will stopped on the top step to look back at it all and sighed. Then turned and headed farther down the hall where there was still writing on the walls he had yet to wash off. "Okay so, the wall writing. Sort of an insane thing to do, right? Right."

"It is a bit odd. How long have you been doing it?"

"Since I moved here. It's really weird. It doesn't happen a lot, just every so often I'll go into some weird sort of hyperactive state and I just have to start writing."

"Do you know what it says?" Hannibal asked, looking at the writing half of which was letters and half was some sort of symbols.

"Sometimes. It's like when you wake up from a dream and writing it all down then go back to sleep. Sometimes when you wake up again you don't even remember the dream even happened but it sounds sort of familiar. It's really weird. It used to freak me out a lot."

They walked a bit farther down the hall. "That's the guest room, which I really never go in and the room next to it is an office," Will opened the door to reveal a cluttered little desk. Fish hooks hung on a display above the desk and there was a bookshelf on the far wall.

"Do you make your own lures?" Hannibal asked.

Will nodded, bringing them farther inside to look at his display. "Yep, it's the one creative thing I do with my time."

"They are quite beautiful," Hannibal smiled.

Will shrugged and turned from the room.

There was a bathroom across the hall, where Hannibal had been in before and next to that was Will's room. It was messy and unmade, full of books and dog beds.

"Your room seems very comfortable," Hannibal observed.

Will laughed, "It's messy is what it is." He backed out of the room, "And then there's my panic room, which you've been in," Will gestured to the door.

"Ah, yes. Have you been using it since returning from the hospital?"

"Much less now and I feel more nuts when I use it than I did before."

"What was your state of mind when you made it? If you don't mind my asking."

"I don't really remember very well. I used to just shut myself the the closet but I didn't feel any safer than I did anywhere else. I don't know how tin foil is supposed to protect against aliens but–" Will faltered, stumbling and shocked that he'd said the word. "I mean– I just–" he was working himself up, Hannibal could see it in his face.

He placed a hand on Will's arm. "It's alright, you don't have to explain."

Will nodded gratefully. "So, yeah. You've seen pretty much everything now. Except the cellar, which I've never been in."

"You've never been in the cellar?"

"Okay, I used to think about serial killers for a living. When I see creepy cellars in old houses, it makes me a little nervous," Will laughed.

"You'd rather not find out the previous owners were murders?"

"You seem way too excited about my cellar. Do you want to go investigate?"

"I wouldn't object."

Will smiled, "I'll grab some flashlights then." He had some heavy duty flashlights stashed away in his panic room. There weren't any lights in the cellar but at least it wasn't dark outside yet, so they probably wouldn't need them too badly.

Will led them outside and around the back of the house. He shut the dogs away in the kennel, he didn't want them getting into whatever was down there.

In order to get the door open, the two of them had to clear it off and Will yanked one door open. It made a horrible screeching as it swung out of place. He moved to the other side to open the other door.

Standing in front of the open doors, cool air drifted up, sending chills down Will's spine. He snuck a glance over at Hannibal who was smiling at him. Will gave him a tiny shove, "It's creepy, don't laugh at me," he said but this only made the grin creep farther along Hannibal's face. Will huffed, turning on his flashlight and starting down the stairs. Hannibal was right behind him.

The air felt cold and moist and it smelled like dirt. It made Will want to take a shower. It also made him worry for the state of Hannibal's nice suit, but Hannibal didn't seem bothered.

The cellar itself was rather small. There were a set of shelves against the right wall. Against the back wall was some sort of countertop and a tub sink. And there were tool hung against the left wall. Will eyed the tools nervously. They seemed like normal handy work tools. Just some things one would use around the house to fix things up. None of them were covered in blood, just a good layer of grime. Hannibal was looking at the shelves.

"There seems to be canned food still down here," Hannibal mused, shining his flashlight in on some cans of cherries.

"I swear you try to convince me to eat out of one of those, I will disown you as a friend."

"They are preserved Will, as long as that remains true–"

"No, the people who lived here before me could have poisoned it or something."

Hannibal nudged open a drawer with the end of his flashlight. Will peaked over his shoulder. "Ugh, what the fuck is that?"

There appeared to be a rather large preserved snake in the drawer. Hannibal picked it up and set it on the counter. "There is a label on the top," Hannibal observed, smearing away some of the grime on top of the lid. "It says 'the cat snatcher'. I believe this is someone's idea of revenge."

"I'm glad this is the weirdest thing that was down here. I don't think I would have been able to handle it if we disrupted someone's ghost and it haunted my house for the rest of my life."

"Well, if you end up with a ghost, you are always welcome at my house," Hannibal smiled, "Shall we take the cat snatcher up with us?"

"Sure," Will shrugged.

The dead snake was put onto one of Will's shelves. He wasn't sure if he liked it there or not.

"Do you believe in ghosts, Hannibal?" Will wondered.

Hannibal hummed. "I'm not completely sure what I believe. My instinct is to say no, but I have heard a few compelling cases that do make me wonder."

Will shivered, "I don't believe in ghosts. I feel like I would have run into a ghost or two in my line of work and that hasn't happened."

"And I hope that it does not."

"Me too."

"Do you think perhaps next week you would be interested in coming over to my house for dinner?"

Will hesitated for a moment, "Yes, I think I would."

"Wonderful."

XxxX

Will arrived at Hannibal's house two minutes late and very nervous. From the outside the home was beautiful and well kept. Hesitantly, he rang the doorbell, waiting only a moment before Hannibal came to the door. He was dressed more casually than Will had ever seen him. That meaning he was not wearing a tie and his dress shirt was rolled up at the sleeves with one of the buttons undone at the top. Also, he'd apparently decided not to slick back his hair, it looked better that way.

"Will, welcome. It is good to see you."

"Good to see you too."

"The food will be a few moments, if you'll follow me."

Will watched quietly as Hannibal moved the food into the dining room, being helpful where he could. Dinner passed in a flurry of nervous conversation and outstanding food.

"Would you like the tour, Will?" Asked Hannibal when the meal was finished.

"Sure. I'm assuming you don't creepy cellars to explore."

"Not unless you count my well used basement."

"Any chances it was ever used by a murderer?"

"I built this house, so unless I've been secretly using it for darker purposes, I think you're safe."

"Um, I'm pretty sure I'm less safe seeing as you just casually brought up the idea that you could be a murderer."

"Well, if I were a murderer, I don't think I'd kill you."

"How kind of you. There was a journalist when I worked with the FBI, who was dead set on making everyone think I was a murderer. Actually, I don't think she would have been happy until she convinced the world that I was a psychopathic serial killer."

"That was not kind of her."

"No, no one could stand her. In a way though, I sort of respected her for how horrible she was."

There were quite a few rooms in Hannibal's house. He had his bedroom, a music room, an office, a few guest rooms, a hall for parties, a greenhouse, and a few others. The last stop was to return to the lavish kitchen where a bottle of wine lay waiting on the counter.

"Might I interest you in some wine, Will."

The blue eyed man paused before answering. "Yes, I think you might."

XxxX

Will was a little tipsy. He'd decided he needed to tell Hannibal something snd he needed to be at least semi drunk to to it.

"Hey, Hannibal?"

"Yes, Will."

"Can I tell you something?"

"Go right ahead."

"It's about what happened on my last case. I've never told anyone."

"I would be glad to listen."

"Okay, so the case was pretty weird. The guy went to all the trouble of manufacturing crop circles to leave the bodies in the middle, turned basically inside out. So there were a few people joking around that it was aliens or whatever. I was ignoring them and trying to profile this guy.

"We weren't getting very far with the case. We had a few suspects and a roughy profile but we weren't anywhere close. I was exhausted that week, I just couldn't sleep.

"I used to go out on walks when I was like that. I would take some of my dogs with me. So, I took Winston and went on a walk down my road. It was early fall, so it was still fairly warm and it wasn't really dark out yet, at least not when I left but the sun was setting. I remember walking a little ways before I turned around and came back. The last thing I remember was hearing the sound of an engine when I was at the end of my road.

"Then things got weird because I woke up strapped to a metal chair in a dark room. And– and yeah. You can probably just insert any random alien abductee story from there. It wouldn't be much different."

"I'd like to hear it from you,"

Will grimaced, "Well, they were small and gray, with big back eyes and tiny mouths. They didn't say anything to me but I felt like they were speaking to each other somehow. They cut me up in a few places without any anesthetic. Some places I have scars and some places I don't. Anyway, that was pretty traumatic for me and after however long I was gone, I woke up in the hospital. So yeah, it was kind of insane so I quit. Well, that's not the only reason I quit. Finding killers also wasn't good for my mental health and I was worried the uh aliens might come back for me if I didn't move. Then I could always feel their presence in the back of my mind. Now I only sometimes feel it."

"I think the fact that you acknowledge how strange these circumstances are is probably a good thing."

"Probably."

"Will, I must insist you stay seeing as you have been drinking."

"Yeah, I guess I'd better."

Hannibal took Will by the hand and lead him to a guest room. "My room is right down the hall if you need me."

"Alright, I'll try not to sleepwalk into your door."

"Is it likely that would happen?"

"It's possible."

"Shall I leave my door open?"

"Not unless you want me creepily coming into your room in the middle of the night."

"I'm leaving it open."

"Whatever, weirdo. Hopefully it won't happen anyway."

"Goodnight, Will."

"Goodnight, Hannibal."

Will did not sleep well that night, he didn't like sleeping in new places but he was relieved to wake up in the same place he fell asleep. He was beginning to hope that all his sleepwalking days were in the past.

Hearing a clatter downstairs, Will started down that way. When he arrived at the kitchen, he found Hannibal already up and making breakfast.

"Ah, Will. Hopefully you slept well."

Will shrugged. "What are you making?"

"Waffles."

The waffles were delicious.

"Will I was wondering," Hannibal hesitated, immediately worrying Will.

"What?" He asked suspiciously.

"I just wanted to know if you had any interest in going to the opera with me. Feel free to decline, of course. I was merely wondering."

Will hesitated. He tended to avoid going anywhere with crowds but then he also avoided being around anybody at all and with Hannibal things never seemed quite so terrible as they usually did. "Uh, I don't know much about opera... But I'd be willing to give it a shot," Will shuffled awkwardly, shoving a bit of waffle into his mouth.

He wasn't looking at Hannibal but he could tell the doctor was smiling. "I'm glad to hear it. The next show is Saturday night at five thirty. We could meet here before hand for dinner and drive there together. Do you have a suit to wear."

"Um, not a particularly nice one."

"I can take care of that for you."

"Hannibal, you really don't–"

"No, I insist."

Will squirmed. He didn't like the idea but he also didn't like the idea of going to find a proper suit on his own. "Fine, but I'm going to pay you back for it."

"You don't–"

"I do, so just– stop being so unreal."

"Unreal?"

"Yeah, sometimes I think I must be imagining you because there's no way you could be an actual human person."

"I assure you that I am."

"Whatever, sometimes I think you are an alien. Probably because of your cold hard sociopathic tendencies."

"My–"

"Don't even deny it."

Hannibal blinked at him. "You're still willing to go to an opera show with a sociopath? I'd imagine that in your previous line of work you'd have an aversion to such people."

"I like you, Hannibal. I don't like most people, so I don't care what you are."

"Then I shall see you at say, around four?"

"Sounds good."

XxxX

Will arrived at Hannibal's exactly on time. He was anxious as one might expect. Hannibal greeted him cheerfully, holding out the suit for him. He was wearing a black and red checkered suit, himself.

"I had to guess your measurements so I hope it fits well enough."

"Thanks, I'll just..."

"You can change in the guest room if you like."

"Thanks," Will shuffled off to change. The suit was of amazing quality. It was navy blue and black.

He shuffled back into main room where Hannibal was beaming at him.

"Will, you look wonderful."

"Thanks," he shuffled awkwardly. "You too."

"Dinner is ready if you are."

"Yep."

Dinner was wonderful.

"Shall we?" He gestured toward the door.

Will took a deep breath. "Let's go."

Hannibal drove them. Will was feeling slightly antsy but also sort of happy and excited because Hannibal didn't loath the idea of being seen with him in public.

Will guessed that Hannibal would usually be the sort to arrive very early for this kind of thing but they arrived only slightly early, giving them enough time to settle into their seats before the show started.

Hannibal had explained to him the premiss of the show but for whatever reason Will couldn't focus on what he was saying. He pretended to pay attention all the same.

Will felt increasingly nervous throughout the first act. It wasn't the usual sort of anxiousness he got from crowds, he just felt generally anxious. His attention to what was happening was fleeting. He almost didn't notice when the first act ended.

"Are you alright, Will?" Hannibal asked as they moved to the reception area.

"I'll be fine. I just feel a little off."

People were very interested in Will at reception. Or rather, they were interested in Will because they were interested in Hannibal. Apparently he'd never brought a person to a show before.

Hannibal did his best to shield Will from the attention.

During the second half, Will had to force himself to keep still. He wanted to jump up and run or do something. He was a nervous ball of energy when suddenly blood started gushing from his nose.

Will let out a soft breath of distress, lifting his hands to his face and causing Hannibal to look over. Hannibal seemed alarmed by this. He removed his own pocket square and pressed it into Will's hand before grabbing him gently by the arm and guiding them out of the theatre.

Will realized he was shaking. He didn't feel like he was shaking, more vibrating with energy.

"I'm sorry," he said, tilting his head forward.

"Don't worry, Will. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, I feel a bit wired. Like, I just want to jump of of my skin."

"Do you want to go home then?"

"Want to? No. Should I? Probably. God, I'm going to be super upset about this later."

"Why is that?"

"I'm ruining a night out with you."

"And that's not something you would like to ruin?"

"Not at all."

"Would you like to go back to my home or yours?"

"Mine. I might start writing on the walls or destroying your house in some other way."

"What if I placed you in a controlled environment?"

You want to experiment on me?"

"If you would not object."

"Fuck it, why not? Let's do this. They'll probably come for me tonight, so either I'll be somehow abducted from a building in a well populated city or I'll completely lose my mind and you can watch it happen."

"Only if you're willing to let me."

"Yep"

Will spent all of the night pacing and writing. They were in the guest room. Hannibal had locked the door as a safety measure (more as a matter of comfort for Will).

Hannibal woke slowly. He had spent a majority of the night watching Will and did not remember falling asleep. He was sitting on the bed in the guest room. He was alone. Will was nowhere to be found. He got up and checked the door. Still locked. He unlocked it with the key he had placed into his wallet and peaked out into the hall. Nothing. He stepped back and checked the window. Locked with the screen intact.

Hannibal looked over at the papers Will had been working on. They were a mess of incomprehensible scribbles. The very last page lay abandoned on the floor. Hannibal examined it but could find no hint of where Will could have possibly gone.

XxxX

A/N: I think the idea of Hannibal tending to little plants in his greenhouse is sweet. It's even sweeter to imagine he was all carnivorous plants.

Thanks.


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